We Are Us

Chapter 23 New York City

Holiday Break, Sophomore Year

“Can I take you up?” Tucker asks, when we’re standing in the lobby of the Plaza.

I nod, and our hands remain clasped together until we’re inside my room. “Poppy…” Tucker turns me gently to face him as he leans back against the closed door.

Butterflies dance inside my stomach as I step into Tucker’s embrace, sliding my hands up his arms until I’m gripping his biceps. “Will you— Will you kiss me?”

His surprised stare burns into me, his voice a husky rasp that strips away the last of my reservations. “I think that can be arranged.”

Our mouths are a breath apart when those reservations slide right back into place. “Just a kiss, that’s all.” I might be pushing the envelope, but I’m not ready to tear it up entirely.

“Whatever you want, Poppy. Nothing more.”

Tilting my head back, I close my eyes and welcome the tender press of Tucker’s lips on mine. I don’t expect to get swept up in his kiss, to truly relax into his embrace. But I do.

I do more than that. I lock my fingers behind Tucker’s neck and moan into his mouth. I meet each stroke of his tongue with one of my own. I arch my spine and press my body against his.

I’ve forgotten how good it feels to be held like this, kissed like this. It’s been so long. Too long.

It’s only when Tucker lifts me into his arms and sets me down on the mattress, the springs compressing as his weight is added to mine, that I freeze, panic a vice around my ribs. Tucker immediately pulls away, his face confused. I shake my head, pushing at his shoulders. “I— I can’t.”

Tucker releases me instantly, his breath loud in the quiet room as he strides to the window and runs a hand through his dark hair. The Manhattan skyline highlights Tucker’s strong jaw, clenched fiercely as he stares at something I can’t see.

For several minutes, there is only the roar of my pulse in my ears and Tucker’s harsh breaths.

Finally, he turns back and crosses the room, falling to his knees beside the bed. “I was drunk, too, Poppy. That night. Not as bad as you, of course. But I never meant… I never meant to hurt you.”

There is a grace in Tucker’s movements, an urgency to his words. And I am startled at the sight of Tucker Stockton, his head bowed, kneeling before me. This is not the Tucker his lacrosse teammates know. Maybe not even Wren.

I place a hand on his shoulder, my thumb stroking the muscled column of his neck. I look down at him for a long time, weighing my thoughts. Weighing memories of that night against this man here with me now. “I believe you.”

I feel his shoulders drop slightly, as if my admission sloughed off a burden he’s been carrying for a very long time.

“Do you…” He clears his throat and lifts his face until his gaze is holding mine. “Do you want me to take you home?”

Do I? I think for a moment. I don’t know exactly what I want, but going back home to my mom and my sister definitely isn’t it. “Give me a minute,” I say, ducking into the bathroom to change out of my dress and into the yoga pants and oversized hoodie sweatshirt I brought with me.

When I return, Tucker is standing by the window again. “I’d like to stay,” I whisper.

“Then you’ll stay,” he says, nodding. “I’ll pick you up in a few hours to drive you home.”

“Wait.” I hold up a hand. “Don’t go yet.”

He blinks at me, studying my expression as if trying to figure out what’s going on in my confused mind. One corner of his mouth twitches upward as he shrugs out of his jacket and drapes it over an ornately carved chair. He sits down, stretching his legs out and crossing them at the ankles. “Okay. You hungry?”

I shake my head.

“Thirsty?”

Another shake.

“Tired?”

This time my lips purse in a half-smile. “Not really.”

Tucker’s rich, sable brows pull together and a vertical crease forms just above his nose. “Then what?”

I sit down at the edge of the mattress. “I want to know about this Tucker.”

“This Tucker?”

“Yeah. The guy who begs for a fresh start and opens doors and treats me like I’m made of glass. The guy who doesn’t take anything I’m not ready to give.”

Sparks flicker within Tucker’s rich brown eyes, glimmers of warmth shaded by the thick sweep of his eyelashes. “I am that guy, Poppy. I know it didn’t always seem that way… but I am.”

His heat penetrates my skin, burrowing inside the dark, secretive places where I’ve stored every hurt, every ache. “I’m glad.”

For a moment we just stare at each other in silence. “You know what? Let’s go for a walk.”

“Now?” I laugh.

“Now.”

“Okay.” I throw on my boots and coat and we practically skip down the Plaza’s red carpeted stairs, turning south on Fifth Avenue. Holding hands, we linger in front of elaborately staged holiday window scenes and run across crosswalks, laughing as angry cab drivers honk and swear. Just as we turn around to come back, it starts to snow. Big, thick flakes, so perfectly formed I can see the individual crystals. I tilt my head back and stick out my tongue, pinpricks of cold melting in my mouth.

New Year’s Eve in New York City.

With Tucker Stockton.

A little nerve-wracking. A little awkward.

And completely, unexpectedly, magical.

By the time we get back to my room, our cheeks are cold, our noses pink. Just like an hour ago, Tucker leans back against the closed door, looking at me with hungry eyes. But this time, before I tell myself all the reasons to keep him at arm’s length, I take his hand and pull him toward the bed. “It’s practically morning,” I say, “you can sleep here.”

He gives me one of his knowing smirks, and in this moment it looks adorable rather than arrogant.

Tucker lies on one side, and I lie on the other, leaving a no-man’s-land in between that could accommodate another person.

I’m on edge, but not as much as I would have thought I’d be. After a few minutes, I ask, “Do you have any siblings?”

He doesn’t answer, and I realize Tucker’s breaths have evened out, becoming deep and regular. Rising up on my elbow, I study his aristocratic face. In sleep, his features have softened, and he looks like an oversized boy, i

There are too many sides to Tucker Stockton, I decide. Curved slopes that beckon me, hard edges that scare me. The overall package undeniably intriguing.

Eventually I doze off, my cheek on my arm, turned toward the enigma sharing my bed.

I wake up facing the other direction, the room softened by early morning light. Tucker is curled behind me, the heat of his breath fa

I wait for panic to claw at my throat, a rush of adrenaline to flood my senses.

But neither comes. What does is the low hum of desire, unfurling in my belly like a flower awakening to catch the morning dew.

I run my palm over Tucker’s forearm, sliding my fingertips between his much larger ones. He comes awake with a sharp breath. He says my name, his voice husky with sleep and surprise. “Jesus, I—”

When he tries to release me, I press his arm to my ribs. “No. This is… nice.”

He exhales a kind of pleased groan. “Very nice.”

I smile and shift my leg up, waiting to see if his will follow.

Almost immediately, it does, followed a second later by Tucker’s hand along my thigh, his fingers trailing sparks beneath my skin. “Still nice?”